


Anne and Edward: A Five Month Study

by willwriteforruns



Category: The White Queen - Fandom
Genre: Gen, historical fiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-06 08:03:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5409191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willwriteforruns/pseuds/willwriteforruns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look inside the short marriage of Anne Neville and Edward of Lancaster. Whether both hated or only tolerated each other, the marriage of Anne and Edward will always be a mystery. Here is one take on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Marriage We Must Accept

** December **

A puff of steam rose from the soothing water coating Anne Neville bareness. The sudden surge of heat amidst the freezing air caused the girl to yelp in surprise. It felt comforting and painful in the same moment.  
           “Apologies, your Grace,” the nurse maid uttered as she took a cloth and wiped away the stench of travel from Anne’s body.  
Anne nodded in recognition. She had not worried too much about the water except for the fact her porcelain skin was now red. But the hot water woke her up from her cold daydream, a frozen fog of a thousand thoughts. She would be married in a matter of hours, married to the man she had been tutored to hate. Her father’s voice rang in her head from all those years ago, speaking of the sleeping King and his manipulating Queen.  
           “That son of theirs, he’s more likely to be fathered by the devil than any man on Earth,” she once heard him say. And now she was supposed to marry him to fortify her father’s allegiance to the Queen he hated.  
           Anne understood. It was confusing and stirred about in her brain for some time. But she had months to absorb the facts and now she would do what was needed for the survival of her family. She did not mind this. She only hoped the son of the devil would find some way to be kind.

Several ladies helped Anne out of her tub and dried her dripping body. A dabble of perfumes and flowers caressed her skin before her undergarments were fitted over her head. Anne found herself staring off into the blurry distance, allowing herself to be clothed in fine fabrics made only available by her new status, however unstable it was. She occasionally came to when she felt a pull on her hair or tightening on her gown, but mostly she allowed them to do as they wished. She was doll being dressed, awaiting delivery.

The cold woke Anne from this state as she entered the grounds at Angers Cathedral. The walls didn’t hold the wind from breaking through to the bodies on its inside. Anne walked foreword with two women at her side. She didn’t know who they were, but she supposed they were to be her ladies from now on. Their journey down the long aisle gave Anne time to search the faces for anyone she knew. The thin fabric covering her face didn’t hide her eyes as they darted about the large space. She could finally make out the approving face of her Lady Mother, standing at attention to her left. The Queen, not so amused, starred at Anne as she inched closer to the Prince. Her eyes narrowed wanting to find any flaw she could, but settled on a short smile as Anne passed her.  
           Prince Edward walked forward to take Anne hand, though never made an attempt to look at her. The two knelt on pillows in front of the bishop as he raised his hands over them.  
           The ceremony went fast in Anne’s mind. She felt her husband’s hand as it supported her own—raw and rough. He was a soldier. He had been running for quite some time, and it was her father’s doing. Anne took a moment to glance at him from the corner of her eye. His head was steady, but his eyes remained down as if accepting a punishment being read to him. Anne’s eyes returned forward until the bishop gestured for the two to rise. Edward stood, helping Anne to her feet. The Bible was presented to him with a ring on its pages. He took it and placed it on Anne left ring finger.  
           I am married, Anne thought as her veil was removed from her face. It felt like stepping out of cave; the air touch her cheeks, and somehow she felt different.  
Edward leaned into her and put his lips to each side of her cheeks and then returned to the front in a much rehearsed sort of way. Anne pressed her lips together in amusement, thinking she had received better affections from her sisters.  
          The two bent to their knees once more as the bishop personally blessed each of their heads. “Rise, Prince Edward and Princess Anne of Wales.”  
The two turned to face the few in the room who bowed in turned. It wasn’t a reception Anne expected when she had allowed herself being introduced as a princess. But it was to be expected. These were not times for adoration, and she did not expect much from her new husband.

                                                                                                               ***

The large bed felt welcoming to Anne as she slid inside the furs. It had been ages since she had been in such comfortable surroundings, though the company soon made them stiff.  
           Anne froze as the door opened and Edward appeared in only a white gown. He took a moment by the fire and poured himself a glass a wine. Anne watched as he continued to stare into the flames.  
           What should she say? Was he waiting for her to do something?  
           Before Anne said anything, Edward finished the last bit of wine in his cup and slipped into bed. Pulling the sheets over himself, he turned away from Anne and went to sleep.  
           Anne sat, quietly confused, before slipping farther down the bed. She knew her wifely duties. She knew what must take place for them to be man and wife. “Husband?” Anne uttered.  
           “Please, let me rest,” Edward muttered from the other side of the bed.  
           “I am sorry, but it has been explained to me what is to take place between a man a wife, and I thought—”  
           “Not this night…I am tired.” Edward fixed his pillow, and then fell to sleep easier than Anne ever could.  
           Anne remained silent as she listened to her husband’s snores. She wished she could find slumber as easily as he. But her fears left a trail of unending anxiety roaming throughout her body. She was the wife of the Lancastrian Prince and, with any luck, would one day be Queen. At what cost, though? There was still so much to sustain through. The thought of the many who would perish to put her on the throne left a sharp pain in her stomach.  
          Anne nuzzled against her pillow and finally allowed herself some sleep. Worry would still be around for her the next day.


	2. A Game of Waiting

**January**

These cold days were Anne’s. That is, she only had herself and a few attendants to spend time with. She eat with the Queen and her husband, and then dismiss herself to her room where she’d read and daydream. Some days, Anne would walk around their grounds. Strange to be a princess, yet feel so confined. They were still in France even though her father-in-law sat on the throne in England. While Anne wondered why they didn’t join him, her curiosity seemed to be answered in her husband’s passionate conversations with his mother. Anne would hear the shrill of his voice as she passed, making her extremely grateful he rarely spoke to her.  
           Despite these minor upsets, Anne’s time was peaceful, though long. While stitching, she’d often reminisce with memories from her childhood. Her thoughts wandered to her sister Isabel, and wonder the state of her being. Was she happy in London? Was she safe? Was her father plotting his next move while sitting at the King’s side?  
           My father’s the real King, Anne would think as her husband and mother-in-law bickered in the next room. It was this thought which made listening to them wail about their upset kingdom quite amusing.

It was near the end of the month while sitting with Margaret, listening to her dictate a message to her scouts in London that Anne allowed this thought to pass through her mind. A smile brighten her already charming face. Margaret, never missing the slightest detail commented on the rare occurrence:  
           “Do you find my dictation amusing, daughter?”  
           The shrill in Margaret’s voice caught Anne off guard. She looked up, caught in disrespect. “No, Your Grace.”  
           “No? You are not happy we will be joining the King and your father soon?”  
           “No…yes, I am. I did not realize it would be so soon.”  
           Margaret shifted in her seat. Her hand motioned for the scout to leave, never looking in his direction. Her tongue licked her bottom lip as she took a taste of the meat on her plate. Her eyes scanned over Anne, studying the girl’s every detail. “Well, we shall see. London is still filled with Edward’s supporters. We mustn’t act in haste. This, of course, upsets my son, and rightfully so.” She took a sip of wine from her goblet and set it back down. “Does it upset you?”  
           Anne took her time before speaking, her own mouth meeting her goblet of wine and taking a drink. “I am sad my husband is upset—however, I wish he would find the good in waiting.”  
           Intrigued, Margaret leaned in. “And what might that be?”  
           “The right moment could be the difference between winning this war and losing it, once and for all. I wish he were calmer, though…I…I admire his…passion.” The words came from the top or bottom of Anne’s brain. She wasn’t sure if they were true, but the smile on Margaret’s face relaxed her.  
           “My son is full of passion, and it is used against him. Unfortunately, he uses almost all of it on the battlefield. Mind you, while this is a good quality, a man must also learn how to use passion in other forms. After all, my Edward will be King one day.”  
           Anne nodded.  
           Margaret stood from her seat. “And a passionate King needs a passionate Queen…” Her voice echoed off the stone walls as she began to leave. “…And an heir to protect them both.”

Anne circled the back garden, listening to groans and grunts coming from her husband and partner. She peered behind the shrubbery to catch glimpses. Edward circled the soldier, his eyes darting in and out, matching the strokes of his sword. Anne ambled into the opening and continued to watch as the Edward practiced his thrusts. Noticing Anne, he made his final lunge forward, knocking the sword from the man’s grasp. An elated yell left Edward’s lips as the man yielded.  
           Edward’s face turned to Anne, his eyes still deep in battle. “Give your sword to my wife.”  
           The soldier looked inquisitively at his master.  
           “Do as I say,” Edward commanded.  
           The man trudged over to Anne, bent down, and presented the sword to Anne, who was just as dumbfounded as he.  
           “Sir?”  
           “Come here, wife.” Edward motion for Anne to step forth towards him.  
           Taking hold of the sword, Anne walked until she stood face-to-face with her husband.  
           “Leave it at your feet,” he spoke, “for I will finish my lesson on a moving target.”  
           “Edward…” Anne uttered, but was quickly silenced as Edward sword moved upward.  
           He turned to his left, presenting the side of his blade. Anne stood very still as his sword danced between her and the air. Up, down, through, and back. The chill of the breeze from his blade caused bumps to appear on any exposed skin. Edward’s eyes never left her own, and Anne didn’t understand why, but she felt exhilarated.  
           Edward lowered his weapon, using it to indicate the sword at Anne’s feet. “Pick it up, will you?”  
           Anne bent down. The heaviness surprised her, so she used both hands to steady the blade.  
           “Lift it up and…” Edward swished his own down, but Anne was ready with the counter. The men watching appeared surprised, but Edward only smiled. “Your father showed you how to use a sword, did he?”  
           “Only in case of need…” Anne said. She exchanged another block with Edward. Again, and again, until finally his sword moved in between Anne’s body and her blade, releasing it from her hand.  
           Anne looked to the ground, bitter by the loss. Edward’s heavy breathing hung over her head, and she allowed herself to look up into his face. He wore content on his face. The first she’d seen directed at her.  
           “Not bad, wife. You may leave if I have amused you long enough.”  
           Anne turned away from him, her own smile lighting the area as Edward watched her leave.


	3. A Part We Must Play

**February:**

The end of the frigid month could not come soon enough as Anne huddled next to the large fireplace in her main chamber. It always annoyed her how the shortest of the months always dragged on so. The rare thaw of January vanished underneath a blanket of snow. Ice coated the pathway Anne preferred for her daily strolls about the grounds.  Thus, she was restricted indoors, either sowing with her mother and ladies, or conversing with her mother-in-law.  
           However this day would be different as Anne’s shivers were interrupted my one of her ladies entering her room. After bowing, the girl responded:  
           “Your Grace, the Queen requests you join her in her quarters.”

The Queen’s quarters took up four rooms in the back of the dwelling. For some reason, Anne always felt a bit nervous every time she walked these halls, as if she was to be scolded. She decided they reminded her of the halls to her father’s quarters at Middleham.  
           Her lady opened the door, bowing as Anne entered to the sight of Margaret with two other women. Fabric littered the otherwise spotless room.  
           “Come.” Margaret beckoned Anne with her hand. “We only have until later in the week to fit you with a new dress.”  
           Anne stepped closer to the women, who, in return, held different fabrics up against her bodice. Margaret shook her head at the first two, but settled for the third, a blue and green fabric that brought out the hue in Anne’s eyes.  
           “What is the occasion?” Anne asked as the women continued to pull at her garment.  
           “King Louis has requested to meet you at small dinner we’re holding. Because of conditions, it will not the most gallant of events, but we shall do what we can to empress our cousin, will we not, Anne?”  
           A nod came from Anne as she bit her bottom lip. It never entered her mind she would ever be introduce to the King of France, but this was her reality now. She wondered when it sink in.  
           Margaret approached Anne, her hand playing with her auburn hair. “I was so hoping to share news of a pregnancy with the King, but alas…” Her hand fell from Anne’s hair and back to her side. “…You know, I did not conceive a child immediately after marriage. I do not wish you to think me completely cold-hearted.”  
           “I do not, Your Grace.”  
           “Yes…I am sure your father’s left you with nothing but beauteous words to describe me.” She smiled as she walked over and poured wine into her goblet. “Never you mind, the point is, I know it may be mean-spirited of me, even hypocritical to persist badgering on the subject…”  
           “Thank you, Your Grace.”  
           “However—while my husband does sit on the throne of England, that chair is an unsteady one. That buffoon Edward and his supporters are surely gaining ground. And we will once again have to fight.”  
           Anne glanced over at Margaret, who stared into the fire.  
           “We are in need of some security.” She turned to face Anne. “You understand, Anne?”  
           “I do.”

The hall had been decorated with fresh flowers from the King’s personal garden. A feast lay forth across a long table. Louis entered with Margaret on his arm, who wore her finest headpiece and long rouge gown. Anne’s arm rested on Edward’s, the two marching in behind. As Louis and Margaret took their seats, Edward brought forward Anne, who bowed accordingly.  
           “May I present my wife, Anne, Princess of Wales,” Edward announced.  
           Louis beckoned Anne to rise and come closer to him. Doing as she was instructed, Anne looked into the eyes of the King as his own studied her features. He smiled and released her Anne, waving both Edward and Anne to take their seats.

After dinner, the small group enjoyed music from King Louis’ minstrels and private choir. Anne sat next to Margaret, who took Anne’s hand in her own.  
           “The King approves of you,” she informed while rubbing warmth into Anne’s cold hand. “He was saddened to hear you were not expecting as of yet, but I did tell him these things take time.”  
           “Thank you, Your Grace.”  
           “Tell me, Anne, what do you think of my son?”  
           “As what, Your Grace?”  
           “I know Edward is not the most…nurturing soul. I have raised him to be such. He’s had to be.”  
           “I suppose he is not as bad as I imagined. Some stories…well, they depicted him in a cruel light.”  
           Margaret smiles. “Cruel. Yes, war is cruel. You will be forced to see that, my dear, firsthand.”  
           “Are we to advance? Go home?” Anne asked hopefully. She missed her friends and family. Her mother’s company was all she had during most days. But she wished desperately to be able to converse with Isabel once again.  
           “We will know soon. There are rumblings. But those are hardly any of your concern. What I need from you, is a grandchild—a grandson.”  
           The musicians finished, causing Margaret to release Anne’s hands; the two clapped for their performance.

Anne wrapped her body in four furs that night. The cold had returned, and snow blanketed the grounds just outside her bedroom window. A gust of frigid air engulf the room as Edward opened her chamber door. Anne sat up in surprised. He hadn’t joined her since their wedding night, and then they had only slept. The sight of him wearing nothing but cloth caused her mind’s words to fly away. Worry entered and sat on her like an infant.  
           Edward removed the linens and moved into the bed, lying next to Anne for a moment before speaking. “My mother has been complaining about our intimacy. She has reminded me that while the situation is less than desirable, it is crucial our marriage issue an heir.”  
           “I understand,” Anne whispered, though she’d rather they go back to sleeping in separate beds.  
           “Lie still,” he said as his hand rested near her cheek. His body slid over hers, giving her time to accept his weight.  
           With a sudden thrust, he was inside Anne, who gasped at the slightly painfully odd sensation. Edward held himself inside her for a moment before moving his hips up and down, slowly at first. Anne opened her eyes for a chance to look up at him. His, to her surprise were closed. A slight sweat a broken over his forehead, and he began to grunt.  
           “I’m almost finished…” he proclaimed before climaxing.  
           As Edward settled next to Anne, catching his breath, Anne was startled to feel his hand still entangled with hers. She turned her head, watching him breathe. He finally opened his eyes and turned towards her.  
           “Not too terrible…”  
           Anne couldn’t figure out if he was referring to his own experience or hers. She decided to reply anyway. “No…not terrible...nor terribly pleasant.” Anne bit her lip, not meaning to allow her bluntness to escape. But she felt so exposed, it merely came out.  
           Edward laughed, seemingly amused. “I am too tired to walk to my room. I will sleep here tonight,” he proclaimed before blowing out the candle near the bed.  
           “Yes, Edward,” Anne answered. She pulled her furs farther up the bed and listened to her husband’s continued breaths before falling asleep.


	4. An Understanding

** March **

Word had reached France of revolts in Edward Plantagenet’s name. The stubborn lecher refused to quit, or die.

                “Are you certain?” Anne asked her mother as the two sat by the fireplace in Anne’s quarters.

                “They have been murmuring for some time. My guess is the Queen does not wish to validate any news to potentially…” The Countess’ speech halted. “No matter. Your father and uncle are making plans to meet Edward’s army.”

                Anne fingers stopped stitching. In some way, her mind did not entertain the idea there would be more battles. Somehow, Edward and Richard would stop, yield, and disappear. And this would satisfy Anne. She still had fond feelings for them. After all, she once celebrated Edward’s kingship, was raised alongside Richard, and was taught to love them. Now, the situation called for another perspective. Anne was a princess and future queen of England, and married to their enemy. And they were now threats.

 

“I said faster!” Edward yelled while lunging toward one of his men. The sweat gathering on Edward’s brow dripped as he took another swipe at the man in armor. “Come, now. Challenge me!” His sword collided with that of the soldier, who returned the strike with much vigor, perhaps a bit annoyed at the prince.

                Anne watched from behind of the many bushes. There had been a dangerous intensity about Edward in the last few days. He had been sleeping with her more regularly. But since the news of Edward’s possible advancements, he had desisted their marital relations. Anne thought he might be upset she had yet to conceive, but could not be sure. Edward very rarely confided in her in a way she thought a husband should, yet she tried not to blame him. It was the situation. Much plagued him.

                “God!”

                A yell erupted from the center of the garden, and Anne’s head shot up to see from whom it came. Her feet rushed over as Edward bent over on his knees, holding his left arm close to his body.

                “My apologies, Your Grace,” the soldier remarked, bowing in repentance.

                “I am fine,” Edward spat while trying to rise.

                “Edward, come, I will tend to it,” Anne offered as she instinctively took his other arm.

                Edward allowed her to escort him inside, though removed his arm from her hold. “Do not fuss over me. It is only a scratch.”

 

Anne took the cloth from the warm water and dabbed it over the cut on Edward’s exposed forearm. Air sucked through his teeth and his body squirmed underneath the cloth before settling once more. This amused Anne. She was sure Edward was doing his best to depict himself a fierce warrior. But a slice from a sword would hurt anyone.

                “Perhaps you should rest for the remainder of the day,” Anne suggested as she switched the cloth with a dry one. She began wrapping his arm.

                Edward’s head shook. “That Yorkist swine is not resting. Why should I?” His fist clenched at the thought of his enemy. “Oh what I will do to him once he stands—no, kneels in my presence. He will beg for his life. Plead for mercy. But he will not find it with me.”

                Anne finished bandaging Edward’s wound before speaking. “Edward, there is no need to be so…graphic.”

                A scoff left Edward’s lips as he leaned back in his chair, his bare chest pink from splashes of hot water. “If you cannot handle my candor, how do you expect to sit beside me on the throne of England? Do you understand the dangers we face with this man nipping behind every step we take? It’s his head or mine—ours, for that matter. I assume you would like to keep yours attached, wife?”

                Anne had not thought about the consequences of a Yorkist victory. Imprisonment, even death, could be her sentence. Labeled a traitor. “You are correct, husband.” She waved for one of her ladies to remove the bowl of water. “But still, handle your anger in front of my ladies.”

                Edward’s head shook as he rose from his seat to pour himself a cup of wine. “How many men have you seen die, Anne?”

                The question did not seem to correspond with their conversation. Anne took a moment to think, a moment too long.

                “None, correct. Believe me, you would not have to think long on the matter. Ask me how many I have seen?”

                “I do not wish—”

                “Or perhaps you like to know how many I have killed, personally?”

                Edward’s eyes shone in excitement. Anne could tell he would take pleasure in such conversation. She did not want to encourage it, so she took a different approach.

                “I am sorry you have had to make those choices.”

                Edward had to admit he had not expected this. “They were necessary.”

                “I am sure.”

                “And they will be again.”

                “Of course.”

                Anne took the moment of silence to be her invitation to leave, but before she could gain any ground, Edward’s voice stopped her.

                “When I was told by my mother I was to marry you, I felt sick.”

                Anne turned to face him. He faced the lit fireplace and took another swig of wine.

                “In fact, I was sick that night. I could not bear the idea of it—anger came out of me. It was something else I had no say in, like the rest of my life.”

                While slightly offended, Anne understood his feelings—they had been hers as well. “I understand.”

                “You felt sick too, did you not?”

                “I did,” Anne quietly replied.  

                “Because of what they’ve told you, the Yorkists, that I’m a monster, correct?”

                “I have heard stories…horrible stories.”

                “And your father. What had he to say about Edward, Prince of Wales?”

                Anne rubbed her nose. “The same. Until he told me of his new plan.”

                “Ah yes, your father is quite the schemer.” Edward walked closer to Anne. “It is true what they say. I have watched men die, even killed a few. From a very early age, I found death to be somewhat of companion. And he walks with me still. But what of those who made the monster, Anne? What of the pigs who stole the throne of my father, stripped me of my titles, and sent my mother and I on an endless path to exile. My right to the throne, the one given to me since birth, I must now scrape, claw, and kill for.”

Edward stopped in front of Anne, her head lowered. He pressed his fingers under her chin and lifted her head so she looked him in the eyes.

“Can you understand my disgust, wife?”

“I can, husband, for it was shared. I have heard of nothing but of your father’s inability to rule, or your…cruelty. How could I be content will such a match?”

“Indeed.”

Anne removed Edward’s hand from her chin and held it in her own. “But now I understand. I will be a braver wife and queen because of it. I promise.” She lay a kiss on Edward’s hand and set it down, moving closer towards her bed chambers. “Come, husband,” she beckoned.

Edward took a breath, calming his stirring of emotions, and slowly folled.


End file.
